


holistic assassins (and other great band names)

by silent_h



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Neurodiversity, ehhh swearing, nobody on this show is straight or neurotypical thank you goodnight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silent_h/pseuds/silent_h
Summary: “This is a bad idea,” Farah says, for the third time. “Not that anyone asked me, which theyshould’ve, since I’m the only one here thinking clearly. Do you know how weird that is? For me to be the most clearly thinking one? Because it’s weird.”“In my defence,” Amanda says, “this totally was not my idea either.”“Wasn’t mine either,” Bart says. “Blame the universe. ‘s what I do.”





	holistic assassins (and other great band names)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [resolute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolute/gifts).



> i've never written in this fandom before so i hope that this is somewhat like what you wanted ^-^

“Stop screaming,” Bart says.

Amanda steps to the side of the door and very slowly counts to three. Reminds herself that she’s been hallucinating weirder things than this for years now, and that’s there’s no way in hell that a fucking terrifying psychic assassin decided to just drop in on Todd’s doorstep.

She takes a deep breath. Counts to three again, but this time in Spanish, to give her an extra second. Implores the universe to _make some fucking sense for once_.

She looks again.

The assassin looks back at her, face distorted by the peephole.

Okay. Probably real then. Awesome.

She goes to reach for the baseball bat beside the door and then remembers that it literally won’t make any difference in this.

Which is just all fun kinds of terrifying.

“I didn’t scream,” she says, finally. Totally lame way to respond, but like, whatever, her brain’s a little under pressure right now.

And also she _didn’t_.

Well.

Not much, anyway. Like, barely a yelp? She’s heard Dirk makes shriller noises when he stubs his toe, and he’s like, basically got superpowers, so _there_.

...and Bart’s got the _same_ superpowers. Except she _kills_ people with them. And is kinda invulnerable?

Yeah, she’s fucked.

“Are you here to kill me?”

Please say no. She’s too young to die, okay? For one, she still hasn’t caught up with NCIS, and she’s not giving that show the satisfaction of outliving her.

Bart tilts her head. “Huh,” she says, sounding surprised. “No.”

Okay so like, life is confusing, Amanda _gets_ that, but she still would rather not hear confusion in an assassin’s tone.

She raps her nails against the door. “Promise?”

“I promise the universe doesn’t currently want me to kill you,” Bart says. She looks weirdly amused.

Okay so did she really have to add _currently?_ Would it really have killed her to leave it out?

“Pinky promise?”

Wow.

She really just said that.

Like, those words really just came out of her mouth.

Bart’s expression doesn’t change. “Dunno what that is.”

Right. Raised by evil government agents who probably weren’t that fussed about making sure their kids knew actual kid things. She forgets sometimes, because Dirk is so delighted in learning every kind of information he encounters that he probably knows more about pop culture than Todd does.

Dirk would also probably let Bart in, if only to satisfy his curiosity, and it would probably definitely lead to some cool adventure. And like, he’s not dead yet, so.

“Okay,” she says, undoing the lock, “but I’m holding you to that promise.”

Bart slinks past her before the door is fully open.

There’s blood and dirt smeared on her face, her hair is a knotted mess, and she’s wearing a bright pink t-shirt at least two times too big with the words ‘making jam is my jam’ across it.

Also, weirdly, she looks smaller than Amanda expected?

And now she’s standing in Todd’s apartment, eyes fixed unblinkingly on Amanda’s face.

Yeah, this was a bad idea. Oh _boy_ , was this a bad idea.

(why does she only ever realise how bad ideas are _after_ she does them?)

Okay, so now what does she say?

“Did you kill the person whose shirt that was,” she says.

Hm. Probably not that.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Bart still hasn’t blinked.

(do her superpowers include permanently moist eyeballs or)

She’s trying to think of something less awkward to say than ‘Does the universe want you to drink anything?’ when Farah walks out of the bathroom.

 

—

 

“Okay,” Amanda says. “This looks much worse than it is.”

“Hi,” Bart says. She doesn’t seem bothered about being at the other end of Farah’s gun but then this _is_ probably just another regular day for her. Instead, she slowly wanders around the room, poking and prodding and leaving dirt on everything she comes across. For the first time in her life, Amanda actually has the impulse to clean.

“ _How_ could this be less worse than it looks?” Farah says. There’s a slight tinge of hysteria to her voice but her aim is steady.

Okay so like honestly that should be less hot than it is but this is her life now she guesses.

“Todd wouldn’t like bullet holes in his walls,” Amanda points out.

“Todd wouldn’t like a serial killer in his apartment,” Farah counters.

Which. Touche.

Though he’s probably had worse here lately, so.

“Not a serial killer,” Bart says, looking almost amused. “Assassin.”

Farah frowns, stepping closer to Amanda protectively. “Someone hired you to kill Amanda?”

“No one hires me. The universe tells me who to kill.”

These days, Amanda _really_ hate the universe. Would it really be so hard for it to be less confusing and give Dirk a break and stop telling Bart to kill people?

Farah’s mouth opens and closes before she sighs. Like Amanda, she’s been on enough of Dirk’s rambling explanations to know not to ask. “Okay, she says, “The universe wants you to kill Amanda?”

“Nah,” Amanda says, before Bart can say anything. “It’s cool, we went through this.”

“I promised not to,” Bart adds.

Well. Sort of. But Farah doesn’t have to know know that.

“This,” Bart says, suddenly, and they both jump. She taps one of Todd’s acoustic guitars. “This,” she repeats.

Amanda and Farah exchange glances.

She’s pretty sure that Farah’s glance translates to ‘nope, your problem’.

“That…?” Amanda says, slowly.

Bart nods, wrapping her hand around the guitar neck with something revenant in her eyes. “I gotta learn this.”

Life didn't use to be this weird, right? Like, sometimes shit actually made sense? And that’s coming from someone who can’t always tell what reality is. Which really says something.

“The universe,” she says, slowly, “wants you to learn the guitar.”

Bart shrugs, still not looking up from it. “Looks like.”

She either doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm in Amanda’s tone or just flat out ignores it. Another thing she and Dirk have in common then.

She’s not sure which of them would be more pissed if she told them that.

Okay so like, how much harm could it do for Bart to know how to play guitar?

“Sure,” she says, and Bart’s eyes light up.

It’s weirdly adorable.

“Hey, uh,” Farah says, making Amanda jump. “Bart?”

Bart hums, trailing her fingers over the strings with a look of detached fascination. There’s dried blood under her fingernails and Amanda winces. Todd’s gonna absolutely _kill_ her if any of that ends up on his guitar.

Or at least he’ll try to, anyway. Pararibulitis or not, she can still kick his punk ass with her eyes closed.

“Okay,” Farah says, after the silence has dragged. “So we’re just gonna, uh.” She holsters her gun, and then grabs Amanda’s arm and not so gently drags her into the kitchen.

“She’s _killed_ people, Amanda,” she hisses, head tilted towards her.

“I know,” she hisses back.

“She’s a _killer_ , Amanda.”

“Dude, I _know_.”

“Still here,” Bart says, not looking up. They both jerk up, twin looks of slightly sheepish alarm on their faces. “You don’t have no proper walls.”

Stupid Todd and his stupid wall-less apartment.

They stare at her for a moment and then duck their heads back together.

“This is a bad _idea_ , Amanda.”

Well yeah, obviously.

“The best ideas are the worst ones,” she grins, straightening up and making her way back out of the kitchen. She throws herself onto the couch, propping her feet up on the table just because she knows it’d piss Todd off if he was here.

“That makes no sense,” Farah calls out after her.

Bart’s still stood at the edge of the room, but she’s finally picked up the guitar. She makes her way over to the centre after Amanda sits, sprawling in the armchair.

“Have you ever had guitar lessons before?”

She blinks once, then looks up at Amanda like she’s stupid. “Why would I need to learn the guitar.”

Yeah, so there’s literally no way she can respond to that.

She turns to Farah, hoping for support, except Farah’s still in the kitchen doorway repeating _bad idea_ under her breath, rocking back and forth slightly.

Amanda winces.

It’s the bad kind of repeating, the one she does when she’s anxious and everything’s _too much_. Bart doesn’t seem to notice, thank god, because she’s not even sure if she understands what anxiety is, and this is _so_ not the time to explain it. She’s gotta distract her before it turns into a full scale panic attack.

“Hey,” she says, gently. “Can you keep count? Like, out loud?”

Farah quickly runs through a few more repetitions, before she stops with a blink. “Oh,” she says. Her rocking stops. “Okay? Sure. Okay.”

She makes her way into the living room, and gingerly perches on the end of the couch. She’s still fidgeting, but it’s less frenzied that before.

Still though, if this is still anxiety inducing. “I mean, you don’t have to, obvs.”

“It’s fine.”

“Like, totally no pressure.”

“No really it’s uh,” she stops. Ducks her head with a shy smile. “I really like music?”

And _oh_ , because she’s like, a hundred percent sure that Farah can sing, because _duh_ , it’s _Farah_ , but she’s also a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t sing in front of them. Which is a damn shame.

Still cool though.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” she grins. “Do you play?”

“Nope,” she says. “I was meant to take piano lessons when I was a kid but I uh. Couldn’t—” She lifts a shoulder up in an awkward half shrug. “Couldn’t keep still?”

Oh. Yeah, Amanda _gets_ that. She’s never been sure if her hyperactivity was just a precursor to her pararibulitis or if it’s just _another_ thing on top of her fucked up brain, but either way, it can kind of suck sometimes. It’s the reason she’s never been as good as Todd on the guitar. Sure, she remembers all the movements (plus like, no offense Todd, but she’s got _way_ more rhythm), but after a while she always just starts to get antsy.

It’s why she fell so hard for the drums.

_Oh_.

“ _Dude_ ,” she breathes, leaning towards her with excitement, “I should totally teach you the drums!”

“Um,” Farah says.

Behind her, Bart makes an interested sounding noise. Hopefully it’s the _huh, neat idea_ kind and not the _I just realised that actually the universe_ does _want you dead_ kind but it’s too close to call, really.

Instead, Amanda focuses back on Farah’s suddenly nervous face. “No, really! Hitting stuff with sticks is like, the best way to get rid of energy—”

“Hitting people also helps,” Bart says, helpfully.

“—and you like patterns, right?” Farah nods, cautiously. “That’s all drumming is!”

Well, okay, whatever, that’s not _all_ drumming is, but _still_. Also like, as terrifying as Bart’s statement was, Farah’s a stone cold badass who knows like, fifty different martial arts; if she can learn how to hit a person then she can learn how to hit a drum.

“Like, not now obviously,” Farah relaxes, “cuz Todd’s too boring to have a drum kit—”

“Pretty sure he’d get kicked out of his apartment if he did,” Farah points out.

“—but later! We can make a day of it!”

She could probably get Dirk to pick something up too, and maybe even convince Todd to help her. They could have a proper jam!

Bart clears her throat loudly.

“I guess we’re starting,” Farah says, bemusedly. She starts to count softly under her breath in sets of four and Amanda grins.

This’ll be fun.

 

—

 

So.

Turns out when Bart said she couldn’t play guitar, she forgot to mention that she had perfect pitch. And a perfectly accurate internal metronome. And her fingertips are already calloused. And she's ambidextrous.

Amanda’s _so_ jealous.

 

—

 

“You got candy?”

Amanda blinks, halfway through explaining the difference between major and minor chords, and why it’s completely fucking unsettling to only play minor chords no please don’t do that.

Bart looks back at her expectantly.

“Probably?”

Bart keeps looking.

Well, okay then.

“I’ll...go look?”

She turns and raises an eyebrow at Farah, trying to silently ask if she’ll be okay left alone so close to Bart.

Farah blinks back at her.

Eh. They’ll probably be fine.

There _is_ candy in the kitchen, obviously, since Todd lives here, but most of it’s half eaten. Fuckin’ slob. She rummages around the cupboards until she finds something unopened, which turns out to be a packet of skittles.

They’re pretty sugary, right?

She considers trying to find something healthier before she shrugs. Doubt Bart cares, really.

She chucks it over the counter and Bart sticks a hand out and catches it without looking. Which is cool as _shit_.

She’s _so_ gonna get Farah to teach her that later.

Speaking of: “Hey, you want anything while I’m here?”

Farah raises her eyebrows. “I’m good, thanks.”

Suit herself. She stands on her tiptoes so she can see the back of the cupboard, trying to see if Todd’s still got any of her favourite chips left.

Bart grins wolfishly. “I _like_ these,” she says. She stuffs a handful in her mouth, and swallows it all in one go. “These are the first food I stole after I broke out.”

Oh. Amanda stumbles, barely catching herself. Farah makes a pained noise.

Bart doesn’t seem to notice, taking another handful with glee.

“Do, uh,” Amanda starts, slowly, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Bart looks up, “‘bout what?” She tips the rest of the candy in her mouth and puts her hand back on the fretboard.

“About Blackwing?”

“What’s there to talk about?” She looks genuinely confused as she strums an E, an F, and a G chord in quick succession.

Amanda looks back at Farah, who lifts her shoulders in a sad shrug.

Yeah.

She’s not gonna force her to speak about her trauma (does she even understand that it’s trauma?). All she can really do right now is teach her a few basic guitar skills. So that’s what she’s gonna do.

“Never mind,” she says, gently.

She throws Bart another pack of skittles and she hums happily, ripping it open with her teeth.

 

—

 

Amanda’s trying to convince Bart to let her teach her the Imperial March (because like, duh, it'd be fucking hilarious) when she suddenly drops the guitar.

“ _Dude_ ,” Amanda yelps, as Farah dives for it, catching it one handed. “What the actual _fuck_.”

“Gotta go,” Bart says. “Bye.”

She slides off the couch with an unfair amount of grace, something manic in her eyes.

“ _Wait_ ,” Amanda says. She doesn’t reach out to grab her because she’s not _completely_ an idiot.

Bart huffs, a long impatient sound. “Gotta go,” she repeats, twitching slightly.

“I know,” Amanda says, standing up to face her. “Universe needs you.” She holds her hand out, curling her thumb and her three middle fingers into her palm. “Now you do it.”

Bart copies the movement, eyebrows raised.

“And now we…” she links their pinkies. “Pinky promise,” she grins. “Anything we promise while doing this can’t be broken.”

Honestly she’s half expecting her finger to be broken but instead Bart frowns, screwing up her face with confusion.

“That’s stupid,” Bart says, but there’s something soft and childlike in her eyes.

One day, Amanda promises, silently, she’s gonna fucking raze Blackwing to the ground. She’s gonna make sure that they’re never able to take anybody else’s childhood away. And then she’s gonna find a way to convince Bart and Dirk that they can just _live_ without being subject to the universe’s whims.

(and if she has to go up against the universe itself, then bring it _on_ )

“Yeah,” she says, softly. “Kinda stupid.”

They stand like that for a moment. Up close, Bart looks so young that it makes something deep inside Amanda hurt.

“‘kay,” Bart says suddenly, unlinking their fingers. “Bye.”

She turns without another word, slipping out the front door as easily as she entered it.

Amanda lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and collapses back onto the couch with a groan.

Jesus _fuck_. What a _trip_.

The boys are gonna be so jealous they missed all this.

Well. Dirk will. Todd’ll probably have a mild anxiety attack, and then make her go over his guitar with a magnifying glass. Still worth it though.

“So,” Farah says. “That happened.”

Amanda puts a hand on her arm in case she gets it in head to like, get up and follow the superpowered assassin. Luckily the universe must have realised it shouldn’t fuck with her today, because Farah just relaxes into her instead.

“Is it bad,” she says, slowly, “that I’ve had weirder days?”

“Eh,” Amanda says.

**Author's Note:**

> did the universe really want bart to learn how to play the guitar or was she just trying to make friends who knows


End file.
